Monstrous Drabbles
by SomeGuyOrOther
Summary: Two slice-of-life, two crossover drabbles


**Aquaman**

Link strolled into the common room, munching a tasty salmon-and-seal-blubber sandwich (the blubber serving in the place of bread. Mm-mm good).

He had to admit, the place looked a lot better nowadays, since the government started ponying up some money for redecoration. Not that he really cared much (his idea of a cozy nook involved muddy water and seaweed), but the place looked more…_homey_, he supposed the word was. Plants, furniture, some of Dr. Cockroach's toys…and a variety of electronics, some of the pricier gadgets donated by private citizens grateful over the whole not being enslaved/killed thing. Including the big-screen TV on which Bob the blob was currently watching cartoons.

He strolled over to where Bob sat, his single eye pinned to the screen, occasionally sprouting an arm to pick a handful of chips out of a huge plastic tub to his left.

"Go easy on those chips, Bob. You'll dehydrate yourself."

"Huh" Bob responded. Link shrugged his scaly shoulders and started to leaf through an issue of _Scale and Membrane Care_ magazine.

"You know, Link…we're kinda like that Justice League" Bob remarked.

"Mm…munch, munch…superhero team?"

"Yes, they are, Link. But, see, Gin is like Superman – she's the strongest, and everyone looks up to her."

Link nodded vaguely, took another bite of his sandwich, and nearly choked as he realized Bob had made a play on words. Could it actually be intentional?

"And Insectosaurus is like Hawkman, because she can fly. And like Hawkgirl, because she's a girl bug."

Ok, probably not.

"And Dr. Cockroach is like Batman, with all his gadgets and the way he can squeeze into teeny little spaces. While I'm obviously Wonder Woman."

Definitely not.

"And you're like Aquaman, of course!"

"WHAAAT!?" exclaimed Link, outraged. "I'm nothing like that loser!"

"But you're really like him, Link. You can live underwater, you can talk to fishes – does that mean Insectosaurus is actually a kind of fish? That's silly, Link. You both have scales, and you both get beat up a lot of times…"

Link growled deep in his throat, and with a couple long steps got right up in Bob's (figurative) face. "I'm an ass-kicking monster! A creature of Elder Days and the Primordial Deep!"

(He'd got that bit from a magazine article).

"He's just some ridiculous cartoon character who rides a seahorse and passes out if he doesn't keep moist! And he doesn't have scales, let along fangs – that's a shirt…"

Bob looked disgusted. "He's supposed to be a friend of the fishies, but he wears their skins right out where they can see it? To be honest, I'm not sure why they keep him on the team..."

Link rode right over him. "I can climb like an ape, jump like a giant frog, and have the strength of thirty men! Remember when I turned over that bus?"

"Ah, don't sell yourself short, Link! Remember when you turned over that aircraft carrier?"

"THAT WAS GINORMICA, YOU MORON!!"

Bob stared into space for a few seconds. "Oh, yeah – she's the one with the white hair. My bad." He sprouted a hand and gave himself a slap on the side of his (nominal) head.

Link growled incoherently, threw his hands into the air, and stalked off, muttering to himself. Bob returned to watching his cartoons. Presently, his mouth-slot formed itself into something his friends would have recognized as a pout.

"Wish _I_ could talk with the fishies" muttered Bob.

* * *

**The New Guy**

The massive robotic shape towered twenty feet high. Massive columnar limbs carried it across the vast room in ten-foot strides. Huge, claw-like hands were extended as if to rip and crush. Atop its huge metal shoulders a crystal dome enclosed a huge, glowing brain, crackling with bolts of weird energy. Truly an incarnation of super-science terror – well, to most people. To the fifty-two foot (and three inches) [1] Ginormica (Susan to her friends), it looked more like -

-**An eight year old boy's most excellent Christmas? Yes – abnormal size and scale relationships can be a source of humor. HA HA HA HA HA HA**.

"Well, it's certainly good to see that you're in such an excellent mood, Atomic Brain", remarked Susan, doing her best to radiate good cheer. It was tricky, trying to develop a good working relationship with someone who was –

-**Constantly reading your mind? Don't let it bother you. I have long ago grown accustomed to the insincerity and frequent hostile thoughts of my mental inferiors. Your uncertainties and mental faux pas are positively refreshing by comparison. Please, call me Brain.**

"Okay, Brain. I was wondering if you're up for going upstairs and playing another little game of oil-drum tennis with me. That telekinetic serve of yours is pretty awesome..."

**And, as you think but do not say, **_**I**_** am the only one who can provide you with a true challenge. Let us see if your strength and speed is any match for my Limitless Mental Powers! **

Dr. Cockroach and the Missing Link watched as the Atomic Brain strode, and Susan ambled, towards the elevator. (As did the two Men in Black who had been closely watching what Dr. Cockroach had been doing with an old television, two hair driers, and half a gallon of Red Bull).

"As I recall, you _lost_ your first match with me."

**Bah! That does not count – I was merely gauging your strengths that time! Prepare for crushing defeat!**

Link scratched behind one leathery ear-fin.

"You know, I'm amazed, Doc. Last time we saw him – what was that, the 70's? He was all "I'll destroy you all" and "you will crawl to me like maggots", blah blah, "beg for mercy", etc. Now he's almost, hmm, how would you say – not _sane_, but not a psycho?"

Dr. Cockroach turned back to his little experiment-in-progress. One of the Men in Black shuffled around to keep his camera on the action. "As I understand, Link, what you are seeing is the result of a great deal of counseling, some serious therapy, aaaand… a steady trickle of Prozac into his nutrient fluid. Isn't modern pharmachemisty _wonderful_? **Bwah Hah Ha Ha Ha Ha!**"

Link started to speak, paused, snorted and murmured "Nah – too easy…"

* * *

**Crossover the First**

The stars shone brightly down from a clear desert sky, as did the nearly three-quarters full moon. Four [2] odd shadows stretched (one of them much further than the others) across the tracks of a deserted railroad siding.

"So..." said Susan, lowering her eyes from the stars (it was still a bit startling how many more she could see with the light-gathering capacities of basketball-sized eyes) "tell us a bit more about this friend of yours."

"Yeah" said the Missing Link, drawing a heavy fleece comforter closer around himself (he may have survived being frozen for 20,000 years, but that didn't mean he _liked_ the cold, and it was a chilly desert night) "is he some sort of monster himself? Why do we have to meet him here in the middle of nowhere?"

(Bob didn't say anything. He had settled down on, and proceeded to absorb a large patch of locoweed. Currently, he was watching the pretty colors.)

"Not as far as I know – he was human last time I saw him. Of course" – Dr. Cockroach paused and wiggled his antennae significantly – "people _do_ change."

"Do tell" murmured Susan.

"He was my college roommate, and not without some scientific acumen of his own. Not quite on _my_ level, but he was intelligent and well-informed enough to be a good sounding board for some of my ideas. Also -" and here the Doctor paused and scornfully twisted his lip – "unlike most of my professors, he wouldn't interrupt with exclamations of 'that's playing God!' or 'you go too far!' or 'Huh?'"

"As for why he left instructions to meet him here, I don't know. I'm not sure how he knew in advance that we were going to be in Upernavik…"

"Something's haaappening…" Bob loudly moaned.

The team quickly struck defensive poses, Link tossing his blankie aside, Susan scanning the perimeter from her elevated perspective, and Dr. Cockroach pulling something resembling an all-chrome Whammo Air Blaster out of his lab coat. The moon continued to shine down, the wind whispered softly, and in the distance a coyote howled. Otherwise, things continued to not happen.

"Bob," began Link, noticing that Bob's eyeball appeared to be drifting slowly south-west in his body, "are you…"

**KA-WHAAAM**

Light, blue and blinding. And _something_ shot down the tracks, to screech to a halt only a few yards away. With a painfully loud whistle, it emitted a great gush of steam.

"It's…a train?" Susan tentatively spoke.

"Time is sorta lumpy…like mashed potatoes" slurred Bob.

Doors on the train slid open, and a white-haired man jumped to the ground in a swirl of coat-tails. Not even pausing at the sight of three quite monstrous beings and a woman who was, if attractive, also a blasphemy against the very laws of physics, he ran straight to Dr. Cockroach, babbling rather incoherently, grabbed his hand, and began to pump it as if he was hoping to extract water in a serious drought.

"Five bucks he's a time traveler" Link remarked to Susan.

"Either that, or a dedicated steam-punk fan with a teleporting locomotive" replied Susan, "and it says something about my life of late that I'm not sure which would be the 'weird' one."

At this point, the frock-coated individual had begun to make coherent sentences. "So good to see you, so good to see you, Astaire…great Scott, you've hardly aged a day – well, as far as I can tell with the chitinous integument and the antennae and all…"

Susan, leaning down hands on hips to better watch the proceedings, grinned. "Astaire?"

"My college nickname" grumbled Dr. Cockroach. "But tell me, Emmett, why this mysterious mumbo-jumbo? We've gone public: you could have just dropped by for a visit anytime."

'Emmett' grew agitated again. "I couldn't let the government get involved…I need your help, Andre, I need it really badly! Jules, Verne…lost in time…"

"Oh my GOD!" exclaimed a suddenly coherent Bob. "The author of "Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea", "Around the World in 80 Days" and "The Smurfs" is lost in time? Dear Lord, monsters, don't just stand there! We must help the man!"

"No, no, no..my _sons_, Jules and Vern! They're lost in the past, and unless I can get your help – and that of your amazing teammates – I'm afraid they will never get BACK TO THE FUTURE!"

…..

(Later)

….

"Still have that thing for tall girls, Astaire?"

* * *

**Crossover the Second**

It is in fact untrue that no-one ever escaped from Area 52.

That's just what General Monger told the monsters. In fact, they did have an escape in 1989, which has remained a source of bafflement to this day…

"So just _where_ the hell is he?" snarled W.R. Monger.

"I don't know!" moaned the distraught technician. "He just went into the bathroom, and when we checked because he'd been in too long, he was just _not there_!"

The monster had been spotted walking through the desert "upstairs" of Area 52, having somehow managed to get by the electrified fences, highly threatening warning signs, and multitudinous sensors undetected, He had looked quite human, if oddly dressed, but when soldiers had tried to take him into custody, he had displayed blatantly inhuman strength and speed, not to mention the ability to throw some sort of energy blasts. Luckily, he had proven vulnerable to the new anesthetic gas.

"Have you checked out the pipes?"

"Yes! Both incoming and outgoing, and in both cases there's a load of sensors, high energy sterilizers, hypersonic chopper blades – to get out, undetected, he'd have to be _intangible_, and if he could do that, he could just walk through the wall _anyway_!"

The last had come out a bit screechy, and the General rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Get ahold of yourself, son: remember, you're a professional! The US of A depends on us to handle the monsters, so the poor panicky public doesn't have to! Now, **are you going to man up and do your job**?!"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. Check all sensor logs: perhaps they can tell us _something_." General Monger turned on his heel, and strode swiftly towards his adjutant. _Damn_, he hated it when monsters did something entirely unexpected. Why couldn't this have been a nice, simple, straightforward monster like a giant scorpion or a radioactive zombie?

The staff psychic had been unable to get much information from the unconscious monster's mind: the trouble with telepathy was that you couldn't get much from a person which spoke an unfamiliar foreign language. Still, he'd been able to get some alarming images of superhuman combat and mass destruction, as well as homicidal impulses apparently directed at a young Asian couple. So, they'd locked him one of the more secure cells and kept him under 24-hour supervision until an interpreter could be brought the usual layers of security.

And he'd vanished just before the interpreter arrived.

General Monger, his face thunderous, settled back in a leather seat contoured to take into account the needs of a man who wore a parachute at all times, and a rocket pack most of the time he was awake. "Ok. Put it out to all our contacts and searchers and news-monitors: monster on the loose. Appearance: young Japanese-speaking Asian male, average height, fairly heavily muscled, but with distinguishing fangs in the place of canine teeth. Abilities: apparently can either teleport or become intangible. Superhuman strength, speed, toughness, can throw energy blasts capable of wrecking an army jeep. Approach with _extreme_ caution. Vulnerabilities: anesthetic gas type XY-17 appears to be effective. Also, the subject is a type "wolf-man" or "involuntary shape-changer": he is some sort of…"

General Monger paused, and turned to his adjutant, an unusual expression of frustration on his blocky features. "Damn it, Mr. Arneson! You're the expert on weird-ass critters: what do I call this one? A were-pig?"

Arneson took off his glasses, and rubbed his forehead. "Darned if I know, General. I know of some monsters that change depending on whether they're in the sea or not: but I've never heard of a shape-shifter that changes back and forth with the application of _hot and cold water_."

Although he was spotted in subsequent years in China, Korea, and Norway, the monster was never recaptured, always having vanished by the time a capture team could be scrambled.

* * *

[1] She was initially 49'11'', but that was before Dr. Cockroach tried to cure her.

[2] The other two team members were left behind: first impressions were usually tricky enough without the Kaiju and a megalomaniacal brain in a giant robot body.


End file.
